


Eyes are Windows

by clandestineClairvoyant



Category: Assassin's Creed, His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Daemons, Gen, Multi, i dunno IT SEEMED LIKE THE RIGHT THING TO DO
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-09-03
Packaged: 2018-01-18 10:00:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1424392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clandestineClairvoyant/pseuds/clandestineClairvoyant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Assassins Creed daemon au, because every fandom needs one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. All's Well

**Author's Note:**

> Obligatory daemon au I may add more to if I get bored. Everyone's daemons species and names listed at the bottom, and if anyone has any critique or suggestions, I'm happy to hear them!

Desmond wasn’t aware that his daemon changed shape until well into the fifth memory.

He wakes up too suddenly after getting shot with an arrow through the throat; the cool air of the lab striking his face like a slap after the dry desert air, his eyes going immediately to Festus roosted in his arm. He always checks on him first thing, despite the repeated assurances from Lucy that she wouldn’t let Vidic do anything to him while Desmond slept.

But apparently someone did something, because Festus is about a pound lighter, and a creamy brown color with darker markings over his eyes, wings, and back. Almost like a cape.

It was so utterly foreign, and unnatural, and wrong, that if Desmond had eaten anything in the past twenty hours he would probably have thrown up.

“Desmond, calm down, Festus is fine!” Lucy insists, coming into Desmond field of vision, and pressing a hand to his shoulder to keep him lying down. He wasn’t even aware he had been getting up. Pollo stamps his hooves nervously, while Vidic ignores all of them in favor of the computer screens, his fingers stroking his beard thoughtfully. 

“Very good work Desmond. Your synch-rate is improving even more than last time, not to mention length.” Vidic taps a few keys, and gives him an ingratiating smile. “See? This doesn’t have to be difficult at all.”

It’s good to have a target for the murderous rage he’s feeling at the moment. “I’ll show you difficult you son of a bitch-“

Lucy pushes on his shoulders harder, avoiding brushing against Festus who’s blearily waking up in Desmond’s arms, and Pollo places himself in-between the Animus and an amused Vidic, tossing his head and horns in an almost mirror of Lucy wringing her hands. “Desmond, no, calm down, it’s just a side-effect! Like the bleeding, this is normal.”

“What do you mean normal?!” Desmond yells, almost crushing Festus to his chest, stroking his delicate head with shaking hands. He’s still weak and wobbly, with dark spots in the corner of his vision. He doesn’t know if it’s stress, or something they’re drugging him with, or just some sort of palsy-side-effect on his brain.   
Jesus. That’s all he needs is a seizure disorder.

“How often does this happen?”

Lucy begins to look uncomfortable, but backs away when she realizes Desmond isn’t going to fly across the room and try to throttle Vidic. (He’ll save that for another day.) “It happens every time Desmond.” She ignored Desmond’s choked noise of amazement, turning to the computer and bringing up a couple of files. “Look, he looks just like Aaliyah.” She enlarges a blurry Animus photo of Altair, and Desmond realizes the Assassins daemon did look alarmingly close to Festus now. “This has happened occasionally in most of our control groups. Not quite as often or as drastic as Festus is going through-“

“I’m ok Desmond.” Says Festus in a quiet chirp, still sleepy. “Just... Slightly smaller.” He stretches his wings out, and using beak and talons, climbs his way back up to Desmond’s shoulder. Like an oversized parrot.

Desmond swings his legs over the animus, burying his head in his hands, and just shaking for a minute. Festus grooms a beak through his hair reassuringly, half extending a wing for balance. “And look at the bright side, at least I’m not a girl like Aaliyah.” He points out, clacking his beak in amusement. Desmond manages a weak chuckle.

“Oh yes, like that wouldn’t be an improvement.” Vidic says flippantly, not even bothering to look up from his screen. Lucy shoots Vidic a glare, and puts her hand on Desmond’s shoulder, helping him as he struggles to his feet. 

“Get some sleep Desmond. It should wear off soon, and Festus will be back to his usual self.” She lets go, almost too soon Desmond feels, and he look at her wearily. He doesn’t know her. He doesn’t know where he is, or what they’re going to do with him when he gets them what they want. 

But he’s started seeing things. On the walls.  
And he has a good idea of what had happened to all the subjects before him.

“What happened to the previous subjects daemons?” Desmond asked quietly, while Lucy shadows him to his room. 

Lucy doesn’t say anything, and Desmond can hear the deep breathing of Pollo behind them, the click of his hooves. The lights are off and Lucy’s framed against the doorway in light when he looks over his shoulder at her.

“Go to sleep Desmond.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I'm thinking this is going to be just a series of drabbles in this universe, mainly because I like the thoughts of Daemons in Assassins Creed, where peoples alignments and personalities seem to have such a big impact on the story.

Festus settles when Desmond was 16.

Despite what he tells Rebecca and Shaun, he doesn’t leave in the dark of night. He doesn’t scale a wall, or hike through a ravine to escape bloodhounds.

He has a backpack, and Festus swooping overhead in the form of a magpie, the sunlight dappling through the trees, and the sound of rumbling traffic from the interstate far over the ridge.

The Farm recedes in the distance, where he won’t be missed for at least two days while his parents and most of the adults are out on a supply run, and most of his trainee group are taking survival courses out in the woods.

He’s opening his mouth to say something to Festus, when he feels an odd lurch in his chest, like he missed a step going down the stairs, and he realizes Festus has settled, just as the daemon lands on his shoulder and runs a beak through his hair.

“So.” They look at each other and Desmond grins. “This is it then?”

“Guess so.” Festus laughs, spreading his mottled brown wings and flapping them strongly. “I guess it could be worse. I could be a bug.”

Desmond laughs. “Or a cat. I hate cats.”

“I could be a fish.”

“I hate the ocean, thank god.”

“Well there’s still time, maybe I would make a good mackerel…”

They keep up the friendly chatter the whole way to the interstate, and it’s only when Desmond sees the cars rushing over the road that he feels the beginnings of sadness. He’s ecstatic that Festus has settled, since he was the last one of the kids in the compound to do so.

But he’s leaving home. His parents. All the other Assassin trainees.

Festus leans his weight against the side of his head, nibbling his ear with a beak that’s sharp enough to be just this side of painful. “We can’t stay.” He reminds Desmond gently. Desmond nods, but doesn’t move. “It’s not our fight, and it never was.”

“It could’ve been.” Desmond says, tightening his grip on his backpack.

“You know that isn’t true. We want a life, remember? Something outside of violence.” Festus lets out a piercing shriek and flaps his wings. “And here we are! No more running laps, learning to hide, learning to kill. We’re going to be normal.”

Desmond wipes away his tears and sniffs once, long and hard, holding out his arm for Festus to scoot down onto. He’s not used to the prickle of talons yet, but he thinks it could be something he’ll learn to like. “You’re right. As always.” Festus churrs appreciatively. “We’ve been planning this long enough. It’s a hell of a time to get cold feet.”  
Desmond holds a thumb out to the cars on the highway, and starts walking.

And they never look back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

All of the Assassin trainees get separation training.

Long ago, when the Assassins were still centralized in the middle east, it was common practice to severe ties to their daemons entirely, similar to witches. It was a painful, awful experience that showed their commitment to the Order, along with removing a finger. 

The technology to do it safely, however, was lost, and Assassins have lost their advantage in that respect. Having a daemon that can do reconnaissance, or can’t be captured and hurt, is useful in the line of work. They make up for it by stretching the distance between children and their daemons when they’re young, and the connection of Dust is thought to be more malleable.

It wasn’t entirely the main reason Desmond left, but it certainly pushed the issue.

His father, and his lioness Maura could have fifteen feet between them before they started to feel the strain. His mother and her starling Chupa could have almost twenty feet, one of the longest distances achieved since they quit separating people.

Desmond knows now in retrospect that his father was preparing him, helping him to become the best he could be. That he would be one of the forefront fighters in the war, two long lines of Assassins all coming down to him.

But at the time, all he remembers is being curled up on the hardwood floor of his bedroom, pressed so hard against the locked door that he could feel the imprint of the hinges in his face, tears streaming over his face as he ached with the distance.

Maura and Bill had Festus over 16 feet away, Maura gently carrying Festus in her jaws as an armadillo, curled up against the hurt he could feel as his distance from Desmond increased.

“I know Desmond. It hurts.” His mother said, resting a hand against his head. Her face was strained, and Chupa perched on his shoulder, running a beak through his hair and chattering comfortingly. “But you’ll need this someday. When the world is against you.”

He starts to think maybe he can do it, maybe just a little further-  
Maura took one more step and Desmond sobbed. “No! No, it’s too far, come back, come back-“  
“Okay honey, that’s enough.” His mom called out immediately in her radio, and for a horrible moment Desmond thought his father wasn’t going to come back, to take another step, push his son as far as could be pushed to make him better-

“Alright, on my way.”

Desmond brushed the tears away as his mom unlocked the door, and he went sprinting down the stairs of their house, down the hall, and out to the living room, where Festus met him halfway in the shape of a small monkey, the better to leap and grab onto Desmond neck, small furry hands petting him the same as Desmond was, reassuring each other that they were there.

“It’s okay Desmond, we’re fine, we’re fine-“

“That was almost seventeen feet Desmond. Very impressive.” His father says, glancing at his phone, before flipping it shut. Maura stretches her jaws wide in a yawn, trying to feign unconcern with the proceedings.

“You’ll be as distant as me and Chupa soon.” His mother says reassuringly as she trails into the room, Chupa swooping to land on a perch next to the tv.

Desmond doesn’t say anything, just wipes away the last of his tears and hangs onto Festus.

But the first seed of dissension is sown, and he finds himself thinking, why? Why do this? Are the Templars even real?

Festus clings tighter, and Desmond dismisses the idea, twelve years old and not yet ready to rebel against his parents.

He reaches 22 feet before he runs away, and his Dad never once shows signs of quitting the training.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, and comments, critiques, or suggestions are welcome! If anyone spots errors of the canon or of the spelling, I'm totally open to fixing them.

**Author's Note:**

> Desmond- Festus- Red Tailed Hawk  
> Lucy- Apollo -Stag  
> Vidic- Bird Tarantula- ??????  
> Bill-Maura-African Lion  
> Desmonds Mom(does anyone even know her name??)-Chupa-Starling


End file.
